


Conspiracy at the spring tourney

by FedonCiadale



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11469453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: After the war for the dawn, Queen Daenerys invites for a spring tourney at Riverrun. A mystery knight enters the list and Arya is at the heart of a conspiracy.





	Conspiracy at the spring tourney

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts), [MissEmmanuelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/gifts).



> I wrote this for the summer challenge on Jonsa-creatives on tumblr. It's mostly just Starkling fluff and not like I think the series will end. But it was fun. I dedicate this to the lovely mods of jonsa-creatives, Amy and Elle!

The plains around Riverrun looked like a colourful sea glittering and shifting in the sun. The slight spring breeze lifted the banners and they were moving in slow waves, their sigils only fully visible once in a while. “It seems, you were right, your grace.” Arya remarked to Queen Daenerys. “Everybody wants a spring tourney.”

The lady of Dragonstone had a seat of honour in the booth that overlooked the tourney ground as befit her station and she was glad that the tourney gave her the opportunity to see some of her family. Daenerys nodded graciously. “I intend to make a tradition of it. If we have a spring tourney and a great council every year, maybe people will grow accustomed to the new order of the seasons.”

Arya risked a glance at her brother Bran. Bran, the lord Raven of Westeros, just gave a grin and nodded.

“And I am honoured that you chose Riverrun”, Arya’s cousin Hoster, young Lord of Riverrun, clad already in a shiny armour put in.

“And you’ve put so much effort into the preparation, it will be a splendid occasion,” Tyrion said. _Poor Hoster. He is such a bundle of nerves, that even the Hand thinks he must say something nice._

“Well, Harrenhal, would have been a bad idea,” Bran remarked.

That piqued Arya’s curiosity. “Why?”, she asked. “Just because of that Harrenhal tourney? That must have been more than forty years ago!”

Bran shrugged. “Sometimes, it is important where something takes place.”

Arya could not see why that would be important and for a tourney at that, but experience told her it would be useless to ask Bran for enlightenment.

“Well, this tourney will be kind of boring,” Arya’s nephew Rickon remarked. “But there will be a mystery knight!”.

Bran shot his nephew and Raven in training a very angry look. “How often, do I have to tell you to shut up about the things you see.”

Rickon made an effort to look sufficiently chastised, but he turned to Arya and gave her a wink. Arya rolled her eyes. She was sure, he had aimed that remark at her, just to show off that he knew about her little conspiracy.

“It’s not as if I placed bets!”, he called to his uncle. Bran shot him another angry look.

“Don’t you dare”, he told his nephew. “You wouldn’t want the consequences of that.”

“Is this a threat, Uncle Bran,” Rickon asked. Bran shook his head.

“No, a foretelling”, he answered with a look so sinister that Rickon knew better than to persist in his jests.

When Sansa entered, her youngest daughter Alys at her side as well as Lyanna Mormont, every man safe Bran stood up, ready to greet her. When they had been girls, Arya would have been exasperated at the show. Nowadays, she secretly was proud of the grace her sister showed at such an occasion. And just before a frown appeared on Queen Daenerys’ brow that her Hand greeted Sansa with such a great amount of cordiality, Sansa and Alys eased into a deep curtsy before the queen. Only afterwards did she embrace her sister, her son Rickon and her cousin Hoster. When she embraced the Lord of Riverrun she whispered something in his ear that made him relax.

“Where is my nephew?” the Queen asked.

“Jon begs your leave. His leg has been troubling him in this spring weather. He’ll join us later to see the archery competition.” Sansa smiled. “You know him. He mumbles about summer knights, useless risks at a tourney.” She waved her hand in dismissal.

“He can see me shoot, then,” Arya said.

When the trumpets blared, the jousters stood ready on their horses to enter the lists. Arya was dismayed when she saw how many wanted to win the price of the spring tourney. _It’s a long shot anyway. I have to count on all of them having luck with the drawing of straws._ The promised mystery knight was there. He had a shield with a lemon tree in blossom, not the most warlike sign. When the time came for the knight to beg favours of their ladies, there were no surprises.

Torrhen the crown prince begged a favour of his betrothed the lady Darra of Sunspear. Arya was sure that Torrhen glanced sideways at his mother, when he rode up at their booth and Sansa gave a little nod, that was barely visible. Darra gave Torrhen a splendid silk cloth embroidered with the colours of Dorne.

Olyvar Frey took a favour of his wife Lyanna, and laughed when she produced a small part of a bear’s pelt. Podrick Payne rode under the sign of the direwolf as captain of the Winterfell guard and Arya thought it was sweet that he begged little Alys for a favour.

Little Alys gave her favour with as much grace as possible for a ten- year-old, but the effect was lessened, when she giggled afterwards. Arya was sure that Sansa had helped with the stitching of the immaculate cloth. Her niece was not the most ardent in sewing lessons, although she was better than Arya had ever been.

The mystery knight just raised a cloth that looked very used and it was impossible to even decide what colour it was, yet again what sort of cloth. It made her think of a fight, she had with Podrick many years ago, when she had not been Arya, lady of Dragonstone. Arya could hear some sniggering. Garron Lannister, Heir to Casterly Rock, won the favour of the crowds, when he rode to the smallfolk and singled out a girl with red locks, whose freckles were even visible from their booth. Gendry, her own husband sported a very unusual favour. Arya had renounced any of Sansa’s help and the favour looked even worse than the ragged one of the mystery knight.

The first round of jousting went well enough for the Northmen. When most of the knights had had their turn at jousting, Gendry, Podrick and Olyvar had prevailed as well as the Crown Prince. Jon joined them in the booth, his limp he had since the battle for the Dawn more pronounced than usual. His bow to Queen Daenerys he managed with grace, and he gave Sansa a quick peck, but he grimaced when he took a seat beside his wife and gave a short and anguished grunt when Alys practically jumped on his lap. Her niece’s eyes were sparkling with excitement and she told her father everything he had missed.

Rickon sighed. “It was all very predictable,” he mused. “Garron was the best, as everybody could have guessed, considering that Brienne of Tarth is his mother.” _And considering who probably is his father._

Arya was quite sure, that Gerion, the long lost uncle of Tyrion, who had married Brienne and had taken over Casterly Rock for the Lord Hand and husband of the Queen, was in reality someone else. Those scars Gerion had received during his journeys were just too damn convenient. It had been no use to voice her suspicion to Sansa though. Her sister had deliberately misunderstood every question Arya ever asked about Brienne and her mysterious husband.

Alys was not disheartened by her older brother. She discussed every manoeuvre with her father and everybody else who wanted to listen and Arya was amused that Alys showed a thorough understanding of the fighting while she was at the same time round-eyed at the wonder of the tourney. It made for a charming mixture. When Sansa tried to curb her enthusiasm, Alys cut her off. “I know Mama, you loved tourneys when you were a stupid girl with stupid dream who never learned.”

Even Sansa had to laugh at the perfect imitation of her own voice. “Anyway, that is rubbish. You did learn, eventually, and I’m not stupid. I just think it’s all very exciting.”

Arya had to smile at that. Jon playfully tugged his daughter’s braids. “You might not be stupid, but mind your manners. That was very sassy.”

Alys tried to distract her father. “There was a mystery knight,” she told him. “He had a lemon tree on his shield. He must be from the South. He was good, but not as good as our Northmen.”

“Nobody is as good as our Northmen,” Lyanna Mormont summed up, not quite truthfully, but nobody would alert Lyanna to the fact that her loyalty to the North sometimes bordered on the comical side.

In the afternoon Arya joined the archery competition. She acquitted herself well enough, but had to cede the first prize to Quenna Greyjoy, daughter of Lady Yara. The spear throwing competition was won by one of the remaining Unsullied of Queen Daenerys. When they sat at the feast in the evening, Rickon made a show of yawning, telling everybody that greensight was no fun at all, if everybody else could predict the outcome as well.

When they went to bed that night, Gendry gave her a squeeze.

“Considering the tough competition, it went very well, today. I won’t have to ride against Olyvar or Podrick before the last round but one, and if I’ll win every joust, not before the last round.”

He bowed. “My lady,” he added.

Arya poked him in his side. “Don’t brag, there are still many in the field. Don’t forget Garron.” Gendry laid his arm on her shoulders.

“Don’t fret too much. We’ll have a say about the Queen of love and beauty.”

The next morning saw the melee. Jon joined them in the booth again, but he took no pleasure in looking. He complained about his leg, how pointless this whole tourney was and even Alys could not lift his mood. Time and again Sansa laid her hand on his arm trying to placate him, but it was no use. Finally, Daenerys made a point of sending him away.

“Nephew”, she said. “You’re spoiling the fun for everybody else. Your wife might be willing to put up with that, but I am not. If you can’t do anything but complaining, I would appreciate your absence.” Jon was taken aback. “I did not complain!” That had them all laughing.

“If you say so, Lord Jon,” Tyrion said. “Complaining is too weak a word anyway, Whining comes closer.” Jon stood up.

“I’ll put my grumpy face out of your line of vision, then,” he said. Sansa took his hand and Arya could see that she silently begged him to stay. _Something must be done._

“You could check on Torrhen,” Arya suggested. “I am sure, your son could use some advice for the next round.” Jon nodded.

“I’ll leave you to your fun and do that.” He disentangled his hand from Sansa’s and left, visibly trying not to favour his right leg.

Whatever Jon had said to Torrhen, it had not helped. He was unhorsed twice and when the herald announced the remaining eight knights for the next morning, Torrhen was not to partake in the last round. Olyvar, Gendry, Podrick and the Mystery knight as well as three others from the south had only been unhorsed once, only Garron had won every round. The eight knights would be pitted against each other for three rounds on the next day. There would be four left, then two and only the last knight would get the leave to crown his lady. This evening Arya was sanguine and let herself be persuaded to massage Gendry’s muscles.

The fine spring weather held and the next morning was as bright as the preceding days. The banners were still colourful and the anticipation of the crowd was almost physically perceptible. Arya was on edge herself. The horse race competition and the dexterity exercises of the young squires went by in a blur and then the final rounds of the tourney started. Olyvar had to ride against Garron, and Arya expected him to lose. But the heir to Casterly Rock only won the first round and the crowd gave a collective sigh, when Olyvar unhorsed him in the third joust, when Garron’s horse stumbled shortly. Garron went with waves to the crowd and seemed not fazed by his misfortune. Much to Arya’s dismay Podrick went down against one of the southerners, but Gendry swept his opponent away. The mystery knight was lucky against the third southerner.

“All the people who bet on Garron, must be devastated now”, Rickon said. He had a mischievous smile on his face, but when Alys fought her tears that her knight Podrick had been downed he joined with all the others to console his little sister.

In the next round, it was Gendry against Olyvar and the Lemon tree knight against the remaining southerner. Arya moaned inwardly. _We might be lucky still. If only a Northman wins._

The crowd went wild when both Gendry and the mystery knight made it to the last round. Arya knew Gendry was popular, but the cheering frightened Arya a little bit. She stole sidelong glances to Queen Daenerys, but the queen looked gracious as ever and if the cheers troubled her, she did not show it. Her smile seemed at the edge of being forced to Arya. Arya wondered, if her and Gendry’s idea had been that good after all. She shot a look at Bran, but her brother was distracted. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but to Arya’s dismay he looked warily at the queen from the corner of his eyes.

_It’s too late now, anyway. I couldn’t possibly tell Gendry, we should abort, now._

Arya was reassured, when she saw that Rickon was in a good mood, and teased his youngest sister. _He would know if something might go wrong,_ she told herself.

The trumpets blared to announce the last round and Gendry and the lemon tree knight rode on the field. Sansa took Arya’s hand and smiled at her sister.

“Are you excited?”, she asked.

Arya shrugged. “I might be,” she answered, “just a little bit.” She deliberately avoided looking at the queen. “It is a pity, that the Northmen haven’t succeeded after all.”

Sansa smiled. “But they acquitted themselves well. We can be proud. And I would love to see Gendry win. You would be queen of love and beauty.”

Arya looked at her sister abashed. _O Gods, I was so intent on Gendry, Olyvar and Podrick getting to the end… I haven’t even wasted a thought on the fact that Gendry might win!_

Sansa laughed at Arya’s face. “If we leave now, I would just have enough time to do something with that bird’s nest on your head.”

Arya punched her playfully. “Don’t you dare.”

Alys tucked at Arya’s sleeve. “What’s wrong with your hair?”, she asked.

“Nothing,” Arya grumbled.

“It’s an old joke between your mom and your aunt.”, Sansa answered. “If you are crowned, you can throw the crown in the air and shoot it down with an arrow. That would be a spectacle, the singers would like.”

“I’m sure, the smallfolk would love for the Lady of Dragonstone to be crowned,” Queen Daenerys put in. Her face still gave nothing away, but Arya thought she heard a hint of jealousy.

Garron Lannister, Olyvar and Podrick joined them in the booth. Alys ran to Podrick and tried to console him. Lyanna Mormont just pointed at the seat beside her, and she and Olyvar shared a smile when he returned the little piece of bear skin to her.

Tyrion patted his wife on the arm. “Your grace, everybody knows that you would be queen of love and beauty, if you would just allow your hand to participate.”

The queen gave a small smile. “Tell me, what would you do?”

“He would have enlisted me, of course, as your champion.” Garron answered.

“But you lost,” the queen said.

“Only because I am curious who this mystery knight is.” Garron said. “And we might never know, if he doesn’t win.”

“Heh,” Olyvar called. “I unhorsed you.”

“I thought, our mystery knight would have a better chance, if I were out.” Garron said, he deliberately turned his face away from the queen and gave a wink to Arya.

Arya tried not let her mouth fall open and turned to Olyvar. Olyvar was as surprised as she was. He shrugged.

“Was your horse curious as well?” Olyvar asked and smiled with a flash of his teeth.

Garron laughed good naturedly “My horse is very intelligent.”

“No, it is not, not the last time I checked,” Rickon said. Arya could see that everyone grew a bit uncomfortable when Rickon mentioned his warging just in passing.

“Even better, I can blame our raven in training,” Garron said.

“Enough, Rickon”, Bran put in. “You showed enough of your witty tongue for one day, I think”.

Rickon was not put out, but he looked abashed when Alys asked him round-eyed: “Did you spook Garron’s horse?”

“No, of course he did not,” Bran answered with a stern look. “That is far too dangerous.”

Rickon’s cheeks reddened.  _Bran might have spooked the horse, though._ Arya gave her brother a scrutinizing look, but he averted her eyes.

“I wish, Jon would come to see the last round,” Sansa said.

The queen scoffed. “You are the only one to wish the presence of your brooding husband.”

When the trumpets blared, Arya deliberately sat straight up and tried to give the impression of being calm and collected and lady-like. Sansa smiled at that, she winked at her and then bent forward, spread her legs, so that she could reach the balustrade and rested her arms on it and put her chin on her arms.

Arya gave her a light kick in the ribs with her own elbow, but when the knights spurred their horses, Arya took Sansa’s hand.

The crowd cheered and they got quite a spectacle. Arya did not let go of Sansa’s hand. Gendry and the other were both good, and the first two rounds went first to Gendry and then to the mystery knight. The crowd went silent before the last round. Arya could hear the pounding hooves and the blood rushing through her ears and squeezed Sansa’s hand. Sansa’s hand was warm and Arya could feel sweat building on both their hands.

The clash of the spears resounded and both had hit the other. Arya’s heart stopped for a beat, when both knights swayed in the saddle. The mystery knight caught himself, his grunts of pain when he slammed back into the saddle were clear to hear. Gendry was not as lucky and he fell. Arya was on her feet, suddenly worried. _He was not supposed to fall. Stupid bull. You were supposed to lose not to injure yourself._

Sansa squeezed her hand. The mystery knight had galloped back and helped Gendry. “Look, Arya, he is up already, nothing happened.” The tension left Arya and she could feel a grin forming on her face.

“You will get your wish, Lord Garron,” the queen said. “We will soon know, who the mystery knight is.”

Arya’s grin widened, when the mystery knight approached their booth. She sat down and tried to prepare for faking a genuine surprised look.

Looking at them sideways she could see that Olyvar and Podrick did their best to look mildly curious. Tyrion Lannister stood up and waved to a servant who brought an elaborate flowered crown of dark red roses that were almost black. The knight dipped his spear and Tyrion put the crown at its tip. The knight with the lemon tree in blossom led his horse a few steps back and then returned to the booth and put the crown in Sansa’s lap. Sansa stood with a look of wonder on her face that was very satisfactory for Arya. _She should be pleased, we planned so long for this!_

The knight undid his helm’s clasps and when Jon’s head appeared, Sansa clapped her hands to her mouth and Alys was bouncing in her seat: “Papa, papa,” she shouted.

Sansa smiled so happily and sweetly, that Arya was elated. _It was worth it, just to see her so full of joy!_ Her sister picked up the crown and went to the balustrade. Jon urged his mount nearer and Sansa reached out and cupped his face in her hand. “My knight in shining armour,” she said.

Podrick started the clapping, he sprang up and began to shout: “Stark, Stark!” Soon, other men and women joined, and some clever Northmen in the crowd raised a Stark banner. The noise was alarming, and if she hadn’t been standing as close as she was, Arya would never have heard what Sansa said.

“Jon, show me that favour.” Jon fiddled with his gauntlets and managed to yank out the grey, threadbare favour.

Sansa took it and had a close look at it. She laughed. “Is this really what I think it is?”

Jon just nodded, his smile full of memories.

“The lucky charm…. I told you to throw it away.” Sansa said. “I made you a new one.”

“This one has served me well for years, and today I was lucky again.”

“I’m not sure, it even counts as a favour. You stole this, even if it was years ago.” Sansa giggled shortly. Then she leaned over, perilously so. She threw her arms around Jon and kissed him fully on the mouth.

“I’m lucky as well, I’ll sit at the high table this evening, with my knight beside me.” She turned and looked at the queen.

Queen Daenerys smiled graciously, if a bit cold, and with a hint of sadness. “You would have had a seat at the high table anyway”, she said.

Sansa curtsied. “You are very generous.”, she said. Her eyes were shining.

“You should make the rounds with your husband, Lady Sansa.” Garron Lannister said. “Wave at the crowds, give them a spectacle.”

“That’s a splendid idea.” Tyrion said. “We will proceed to the banquet and try to drink all the wine.” He extended his hand invitingly to the queen.

“I’m sure even you cannot empty the royal cellars, my dear lord hand.” Bran said.

“We won’t be long,” Sansa said. She turned to Arya and hugged her shortly. When she was close to her ear, she whispered in an almost inaudible voice. “I could not wish for a sweeter sister. Thank you.”

She went to the balustrade with a spring in her step and the crowd clapped wildly when she swung her legs over and let herself drop into Jon’s arms.

Arya hung behind when the Queen and her Hand left and waited for her husband. Jon and Sansa were riding rounds and Sansa waved at the crowds, the crown of roses on her head, her red hair with a few white streaks streaming behind her. She was circled in Jon’s arms and the Northmen waved the banners. Alys stood at the balustrade and was clapping the loudest.

When Gendry came to the booth, Arya ran to him. “You are not hurt, are you,”

He shook his head. “Not at all, my lady. Are you satisfied with how this humble servant obeyed your command?”. Arya boxed him in the side playfully.

“It all worked wonderfully, don’t you think,” Podrick said. “Did you see the look on Lady Stark’s face? This was definitely worth all the effort.” He looked smug. “I think, she never suspected, it was Lord Stark.”

“But Lord Stark knew something was on.”, Olyvar said.

“Why?” asked Arya.

“After I lost, he took me to the side and told me, that no lord ever had truer bannermen than he had.” Olyvar answered.

Arya had to laugh. _So much for trying to be circumspect. We all tend to forget that Jon may be the fighter, but he is far from non-observant._

Gendry looked at her questioningly, but it was only later when they had retired for the night, that his lady told him, that their little scheme hadn’t been a surprise after all.

“And I have the suspicion that Garron was in on it as well. He probably was instructed by Brienne. And I won’t even talk about Bran, he knew everything of course.” Arya said.

“It must be boring sometimes to be the Lord Raven.” Gendry said.

“If you listen to Bran it’s all about dire consequences. It can’t be that boring.”

“Anyway, you owe me, my lady,” Gendry said. “Your fine plan worked out, your sister has her crown, and I plan to let you pay.” He laughed. “But one thing is settled know, once and for all. Your sister is by far a better actor than you.”

When Lady Arya had paid her debt in full, they snuggled together and went to sleep in the fresh air of spring.


End file.
